


Bound by love

by ChocoNut



Series: Many ways to say I love you [51]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 8x4 missing scene, Confession, F/M, Fluff, Mild Smut, Season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 02:25:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19781329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: Nearly two months after they've shared a bed in Winterfell, Brienne stays aloof one day, keeping away from Jaime. When he tries to find out why, he is in for a surprise.





	Bound by love

“Have you seen Ser Brienne anywhere?” Jaime asked his brother, anxious that the wench had been missing for quite a while. The last time he’d seen her was that morning, when he had dragged her back to bed, unwilling to let her get up, reluctant to leave the comfort of her warm body wrapped around him.

“ _Ser_ Brienne, huh?” teased Tyrion, throwing him a sly wink. “Weeks have passed since you began living with her, and you still call each other _ser_?” Jaime clicked his tongue in response, but his irritation seemed to have no effect on his brother who appeared to be determined not to let go of a chance to trouble him. “How long is this formal address going to continue? Until you’re married? Or worse still, even after the birth of your first child?”

“Would you mind answering my question instead of mocking me?” Jaime snapped, trying not to let the anger inside him boil over.

“How would I know?” Tyrion counter-questioned him, retaining his composure despite Jaime’s mounting frustration. “All the while she isn’t with Sansa, you’re with her, you hardly leave her side, nor do you let anyone else--”

“Thank you, I’ve got the information I needed,” Jaime seethed, incapable of taking Tyrion's onslaught in his current state of distress. Eager to leave his sniggering brother behind him, he dashed off, resuming his quest for the wench, thinking about the days that had passed, in the meantime. People talked, he knew, speculating what was going on between Brienne and him, some of them speaking in whispers about them, but he cared not about gossip-mongers. What he shared with her went far beyond the union of merely their bodies, a history they shared across years of meeting, parting and longing, something that most around them would never understand, the family she was sworn to, included. 

_But where, in the name of the seven, is she?_

She wasn’t around during lunch, nor did he see her in the training yard during the evening hours she regularly spent sparring with the boys. Podrick had no idea where she was, nor did any of the others she tutored. The sun was swiftly going down, and he had searched every place he could think of - the Godswood, the frozen lake, the great hall and everywhere else that struck his mind, but to no luck.

_Perhaps she’ll turn up for supper…_

With that hope, he swallowed his anxiety and whiled away the hour before dinner, rushing to the hall the moment it was time for the meal. And there again, to his utmost disappointment and quickly growing apprehension for her safety, she wasn’t to be seen.

“You’re worried,” Tyrion said, laying a comforting hand on his arm.

“I haven’t seen her since morning,” barked Jaime, his agitation at its peak now, “what else would I be if not worried?”

“Have you looked in her chambers?”

“I haven’t--” Jaime began, only now realizing his folly. How could he have been so stupid to have missed something this obvious? In his anxiety and distress, he had failed to think clearly, his mind refusing to cooperate.

“Go now,” Tyrion encouraged him, “I’m sure you’ll find her there.”

Jaime didn’t need to be told again. He darted towards the exit at once, half-walking and half-running as he made his way to Brienne’s chambers, stopping only when he was outside her door.

“Brienne,” he called out, knocking once, making sure she knew it was him.

“It’s open,” came her muffled voice.

_Thank the gods!_

Relieved, he took a tentative step inside, wondering what could possibly have driven her to the extreme of confining herself within these four walls all day. She was sitting on the bed, her back to the door, and a few quick strides later, he was by her side.

“What’s wrong, wench?” 

Her face away from the light of the candle, he couldn’t make out the emotions in her eyes. Was she sad? Apprehensive? Angry with him for some reason? “Why have you been hiding from me all day?” he pressed on when she refused to answer him, her head hung low for reasons only she knew.

“I haven’t been hiding,” she gulped down half her words, her ever-truthful eyes betraying her lie. He looked deeply into them, searching for answers, hoping he could, in some way, rid her of whatever was troubling her.

“Something’s clearly bothering you,” he said, turning her face towards his, “tell me, Brienne, don’t you trust me enough to confide in me with your problems?”

“It’s--” she hesitated “--not exactly a problem.”

“What is it then?” he persisted, sitting beside her and holding her hand. “Whatever it is, believe me, I’m always on your side--”

“I’m pregnant,” she slowly revealed, her voice softer than he’d ever heard it to be.

Jaime couldn’t believe his ears, his heart stopping for an instant. “What did you just say?” he had to ask again, hoping he’d heard her right.

“I am with child,” she repeated, averting her gaze, “that’s why I’ve been indoors all day. I haven’t been well.”

“Are you sure about it?” While his chest swelled with joy and his heart threatened to burst out of its cage in his excitement, he ensured his tone was measured, a guarded whisper. He didn’t want to celebrate before he was certain about it, for the disappointment would be too much for him to bear if this was nothing but a miscalculation or a mistake.

He could feel her clench her fist under his grip. “I’m almost a month overdue for my blood,” she confided in him, “and Sam’s pretty confident it is positive.” She bit her lip as she said this, her face shadowed with worry.

“That’s--” _wonderful news,_ he was about to tell her, but she didn’t let him speak.

“Jaime, I never thought it would go this way,” she cried out, her eyes shining with the emotions she’d been bottling up inside her all day. “I don’t want fathering this child to be a compulsion for you--”

“A compulsion?” Jaime intervened, horrified that she thought he’d consider the prospect of a child with her anything less than a blessing.

“Yes, we both know this was an accident,” she continued in the same distressed tone, “if only I had diligently consumed the moon tea I was given, this wouldn’t have happened--”

“Brienne--” he tried to explain his side, but she wouldn’t listen.

“Just one small lapse, and see where we’ve landed,” she went on, paying no attention to him.

He tried to make himself heard again. “It’s not how you think it is--”

“I don’t mean to thrust the child upon you, Jaime--”

“Will you listen to me, wench?” he roared, desperate for a chance to tell her how he felt, the rage in his tone stunning her into silence. When she was finally quiet, he exhaled deeply to calm his nerves before he voiced the next thing in his mind, “Marry me, Brienne,” he proposed, hoping she’d accept without arguments.

Her reaction, however, was far from what he’d expected. “I had anticipated this,” she lamented, “I knew you’d want to marry me because you’re too noble to let a bastard grow inside me, you care too much about my honour--”

“Oh, shut your mouth!” he yelled again, furious that she’d misread the reason behind his proposal. Shocked, and somewhat chastised by his strong tone, she fell silent, dropping her gaze to her lap.

 _But isn’t it your fault too?_ poked his conscience, pointing out that he'd taken ages to act on his feelings. Even after they'd consummated their yet-unnamed relationship, he'd said nothing. It had been nearly two months since their first night together, but he had not even properly confessed his feelings for her. He’d shown her in countless ways that he loved her, but never once had he uttered those little words.

“I want to marry you, Brienne,” he gently confessed, bringing her hand to his lips, “not because you carry my child--” She opened her mouth, perhaps to object, but he would have no more of her protests. “I want you to be my wife because I love you, wench.” He kissed her fingers tenderly, hoping, this time, that she would honour him with a favourable answer.

His heart sank when she didn’t utter a single word, the storm in her eyes increasing the agitation his poor, raging heart was unable to take. 

“Is it a yes or a no? Say something,” he began speaking rapidly, overcome by nervousness, knowing he could bear it no more, “just--just tell me if you don’t want this, if you feel--” he paused, unable to say another word.

_What the fuck am I doing?_

Shutting his eyes for a moment, he slowed down to take another deep breath to quell the rising panic inside him. “If marriage isn’t part of your intended future,” he said, once he’d collected himself, “tell me so. Tell me I’m an idiot if you think so, but please don’t keep me in the dark for long--”

“You are,” she interrupted him, without context.

“What?”

“The biggest idiot I’ve ever met,” she explained, smiling shyly, the look in her eyes giving him the answer he wanted.

“An idiot who fell madly in love with you,” he replied, his heart soaring as he gazed upon her glowing face in awe, his admiration for her increasing every time he looked at her.

She shook her head, still smiling at him. “An idiot who took this long to tell me that he loves me,” she affectionately scolded him, throwing her arms around his neck.

“Can’t help it, can I?” he teased, wrapped his stump around her waist as he stroked her hair. “Idiots aren't always bright enough to do the right thing.”

Her smile disappeared the very next second, the radiance on her face replaced by regret. “I’m sorry, I misunderstood you,” she apologised, her eyes guilt-ridden, “I haven’t been in the best of moods all day, the effect of my pregnancy, I suppose. But I’ll get through it--”

“ _We,_ ” he corrected her. “We will get through it, Brienne, you and I. It’s _our_ child, and you’re not doing this without me. I’m going to stand by you for every minute of it.” He paused for breath, overwhelmed, when he pictured the two of them on Tarth, in a keep by the ocean, her belly swollen with child. “Any mood swings you have, I’ll be here to hold your hand and make things easier for you,” he promised her, wanting to lay down the world at her feet. “Every time you’re sick--”

“Jaime--”

“--I’ll be there to take care of you,” he assured her, meaning every single word of it, wanting to spend every minute of his life with her, “and when you lie on the birthing bed, I’m going to be there by your side, Brienne, and together we’re going to welcome the symbol of our love into this world. I’d even share your pain if I could, but unfortunately--”

“Oh, stop it, will you?” she said softly, unshed tears shining in her eyes as she leaned in to kiss him.

“Thank you for giving me this wonderful gift, Brienne,” Jaime gushed, his lips teasing hers with soft, feathery touches. “It’s you, and none other than you, that I’d choose to have this with.”

“I love you, Jaime,” she breathed, when he deepened the kiss. 

He sank into the bed, pulling her into an embrace, taking care not to put much pressure on her belly. “Selwyn,” he announced his decision, peppering her face with little kisses as he ran his stump tenderly over her stomach, “if it’s a boy.”

“Joanna, if it’s a girl,” she replied, playfully nipping at his lip.

“Why not strive for both of them?” he suggested mischievously. “Seven children, maybe, or perhaps one or two more than that.”

Brienne blushed profusely, the pale light of the candle enhancing the lovely glow on her skin. “One at a time,” she said, snuggling comfortably into his arms. 

“A big happy family, we could one day be,” he voiced his wish, his lips on hers again, “you, me and our countless children.”

“A family bound by love,” she dreamily concurred as she kissed him back.

One look at her flushed face and passion-filled eyes and his restraint came undone. He went into the kiss with all the aggression within him, plunging his tongue into her inviting mouth, his lips hungry for hers while his hand freely roamed her back, reaching beneath her shirt, craving for contact with her burning skin. He gave her waist a little squeeze, and she moaned into his mouth, leaving him wildly aroused and aching for her.

“Jaime, I want you,” she whimpered in desperation, clumsily fumbling with his shirt, her lust-ridden gaze taking his passion for her to insurmountable limits.

“I’m yours, wench,” he gasped, fighting a losing battle as he tried to sustain his self-control, “I will always be yours.”

“You’re getting better with this,” she remarked, when he had undone her shirt and pushed it aside within seconds, his now-efficient fingers beginning to work on her breeches.

“Practice makes a man perfect, my lady,” he boasted, sliding his hand up her chest. She sighed at first when he palmed her breast, the sighs rapidly turning into moans and moans into screams when he continued tormenting her, his kisses absorbing the indecent noises she made when his hand wandered all over, pinching and caressing her. She violently jerked his pants down, her hands groping his erection, every touch of her long fingers driving him over the edge, every stroke threatening him, leaving him hoping he wouldn’t explode in her hands. 

_She’s all I want,_ he told himself, vowing never to let her out of his sight again when she straddled him, grinding her hips against his, a loud cry escaping her when he was buried to the hilt in her. 

_She’s all I need,_ he realized, when she began moving, taking him at her pace, her steady movements quickening his pulse, leaving him gasping in delight. Her satisfaction of utmost importance to him, he snaked his hand up her chest, reaching for her breast, eager to touch her exactly where she’d always wanted him to, the way she bit her lip when he tugged at her nipple awakening new desires within him.

 _She’s going to be the mother of all my future children,_ he decided, his feral cries turning into screams of her name, as he surrendered himself to the familiar warmth of her core when she kept pushing into him.

 _I am yours,_ her eyes assured him when she found her release, the ecstatic noises that left her throat corrupting his mind with unmentionable thoughts.

 _And I will always be yours,_ he told her again, this time with a kiss when he came undone within her, his pleasure tearing him apart, filling him with such contentment that he feared all this might be just a dream.

 _I’m the luckiest man in all of Westeros,_ he thought, thanking the gods for the gift they had bestowed upon him when she collapsed into him, resting her head on his chest as they breathed as one, spent, but satiated, tired, but elated. 

Yes, he was lucky to be hers, and to have her. And their family that was soon to come.

A family bound by love.

**Author's Note:**

> I've happily chosen to ignore Cersei's "pregnancy" :)  
> Hope you've enjoyed this yet another dose of fluff!


End file.
